The Second Day Of Christmas ~ Arthur Shelby

The Second Day of Christmas ~ Arthur Shelby

Prompt: Seeing the first snowfall of the year

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 487

A/N: I actually really love how this turned out and I want to say thank you so much to the anon who requested a first snowfall with Arthur.

With a quiet groan, you rolled over in your bed, pulling out of the arms that had been wrapped around you. Slowly, you opened your eyes, closing them again almost instantly, but then they snapped open again. You sat up abruptly, your eyes moving to the window of your shared bedroom. A small smile spread across your face as you jumped up from the bed, narrowly avoiding the arms that had reached out to grab you again. Arthur groaned as he opened one eye to stare at you as you rushed around the room, pulling on a pair of old trousers and a knit sweater. Hopping on one foot, you pulled on a thick wool sock, your other foot bare still. Arthur groaned again as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself, a shiver passing through him, “Come back to bed. S’cold.”

You glanced back at him quickly as you pulled your other sock on, “Snow.” And then you were rushing from the room and down the stairs, taking them two at time. You nearly tripped on the last step, but gripped the banister tightly and pulled yourself up. Rushing to the back door, you grabbed your boots and hastily slid them on and pulled open the door. As soon as you felt the cold air on your skin, you slowed down. Beautiful, shining snowflakes were still falling around you and you spun slowly in your spot, closing your eyes and breathing in the crisp winter air. You heard the back door open and close and the crunching of snow beneath Arthur’s boots. Your spinning halted and you faced your husband, your smile growing at the sight of snowflakes sticking to his mustache.

Arthur stepped over to you, draping your coat over your shoulders, “Forget something?” He was trying not to smile, and you laughed, shoving your arms in the sleeves of the coat, and fastening the buttons. Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to Arthur’s lips and grabbed his hand. Leaning back again, you let yourself fall into the snow, pulling Arthur with you. His eyes widened as he tried to stop himself from falling, but ultimately failed. He fell next to you, the snow sticking to his coat as he rolled over slightly to get up, but you held tight to his hand, smiling at him as the flurries continued to fall, landing in your hair, and melting against the warmth of your skin. Arthur looked down at you and smiled. He laid back, feeling the chill of the snow against his neck, but it quickly disappeared as your free hand moved to caress his cheek. Despite the weather, it was warm, and he melted into your touch, his eyes closing for a brief moment. When he opened them again, you were cuddled up to his side, looking up at the sky, snowflakes catching in your lashes and a warm smile on your face.

night walk by Franz Wright

Arthur and a walk with the reader and their child. Maybe they're walking around their garden. Or Arthur tells the baby the names of the horses in the stable.

Fatherhood hadn't exactly come naturally to Arthur. He'd always been scared of having children, scared he was going to be like his own dad - flighty and unreliable - scared he was going to pass on the dreaded Shelby curse. Worse still, scared he'd end up raising a son just as violent, just as angry, pained and fragile as he viewed himself.

But when you'd fallen pregnant the first time he'd seen the tears of joy in your eyes and felt them mirrored in his. Sure, the fear hadn't dissipated and he was convinced he'd always be scared shitless of the wee one - not that he'd ever tell you that - but the second he had laid eyes on her that fear was dulled somewhat by a sense of great purpose. A sense of purpose which had overwhelmed him completely when he'd held your little girl in his arms for the first time, her head small enough it fit in the palm of his hand, her little body so tiny he could hold her like that, head in palm, little feet resting on his forearm as he bounced her gently to sleep.

He'd looked down at your little girl and known that no matter what he felt, no matter how bleak the world around him felt, he would always keep persevering for you and her. He'd do anything to make her life peaceful and full of joy. She was like a little ray of sunshine cut through all the bad, a diamond in the rough. He couldn't stop smiling and even now, a year later, he couldn't help but grin whenever he laid eyes on his little one.

Still, he often found himself at a loss to do. It wasn't that he was scared of her as such, it was that he couldn't quite relax when he was near her. Her big eyes looking at him expectantly. The knowledge that she relied on him completely, to look after her, to keep her safe... It was scary, it made him nervous. Meant that more often than not a lot of the time he spent with her was also spent with you because he knew that you wouldn't let anything go wrong. You would be there to sooth her if he was too rough or clumsy when he was holding her. He was terrified of making her cry, scared even just to think that he might, that if she did he wouldn't be able to help her, would only make things worse.

Today however was different. For the first time since the little girl had been born you'd left him alone with her. He'd been stunned when you'd told him that morning that you had to go out into the city for the day and wouldn't be able to take the baby with you. He'd stuttered and fumbled his words trying to ask you why not, all "but... How long are you gonna be gone for what should I do if.. If..."

"If what Arth? You'll be fine," you'd said with a smille shaking your head fondly. The truth was you could have taken the baby with you, the three of you could all have gone into town together but that wasn't what you wanted. What you wanted was for Arthur to realise he was a good dad, a capable father. For him to realise that his little girl thought the sun shone out of her daddy, just the same as he thought that of her. You'd noticed Arthurs apparent awkwardness from day one and you knew he'd always been worried about fatherhood.

You'd hoped that he'd settle into the role eventually, that he'd realise he really didn't have anything to fear... But as time had passed and you realised he still looked a little on edge just holding the little darling, you realised that you were going to have to intervene. Perhaps pushing him into the deep end wasn't the best idea, but you didn't know what else to do.

You'd already tried gently pulling back, leaving them to play together in the next room, leaving him to read to her, asking him to walk her round the garden when she couldn't sleep. Arthur always managed to stay close to you, to fall back on you. It wasn't exactly bad but you knew it couldn't be a good thing either. Besides, you wanted your daughter to love her father, to grow up trusting him, seeing the good in him. You didnt want her to feel he was distant or awkward. That would be just too sad.

So you'd left him alone, closed the front door and hurried off into the city to spend the day with your friends shopping. And now there he was, sitting at the kitchen table, your little girl Lily sitting on the table, one hand in a bowl of mashed banana the other in her mouth.

"Sposed to eat the food darlin how many times av i told you eh, foods for eatin not paintin..." chuckled Arthur, his low grumble broken by his smile. Lily really was a daddy's girl and he couldn't get mad at her for anything, even when she'd smeared herself, him and the table with banana and honey gloop.

"Right, alright," he smiled tickling her belly through her dress as he reached to pick her up, "you've had your fun with that now i reckon, time to get you cleaned up an then you an daddy have the whole day to do whatever we like, how does that sound darlin? How about that eh?" he said kissing her on the head, using his thumb to scoop a little of the banana from her cheek. When he licked his fingers he screwed his nose up.

"No alright I don't blame you littlen, thas no good for owt but paintin with..." He mused as he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her cheek which only meant that they were both covered in banana and honey gloop.

But once he was holding her in his arms he was once again at a loss, uncertain how he should even speak to her. He'd heard it was good to talk to babies as though they were adults because it helped them learn how to have intelligent conversations, but he wasn't sure he would be much use there. He couldn't remember having ever had the kind of conversation others might consider intellectual.

Besides he wasn't half as gentle talking to adults as he was with Lily. Didn't seem right for him to start talking to her the way he talked to his brothers, nor did it seem right for him to talk to her the way he spoke to you. So he stood in the kitchen doorway looking out at the chickens pecking at the dirt on the drive and he bounced Lily in his arms until she giggled and clasped her little hand around the hairs in his beard.

He grinned, the sound of her laugh was ever so contagious and never failed to make him smile.

"Right well, how about a nice little walk round the garden eh, suns out and I can introduce you to all the animals round the farm eh? What dya reckon sunshine would you like that?" He asked her looking down at her with all the love in the world. She was so pure and precious and that was exactly why he got so nervous to be with her, just seeing the joy and innocence in her bright doe eyes made his stomach twist with anxiety at the thought that he wasn't good enough for her. That he could never be the kind of dad she deserved because he wasn't a good enough man.

But when she smiled up at him and reached for his face with her tiny hand, her stubby little fingers skimming his beard as she giggled and said "dada dada," one of the only words she could he found his nerves replaced with a swell of pride and a smile he couldn't shake off.

"Alright then sunshine," he said with a grin, bouncing her in his arms as he carried her out of the kitchen door and into the garden, the stoned beneath his feet crunching as he made his way to the gathering of chickens on the driveway. He'd fed them earlier that morning but he still had some dried corn in his pockets and he was hoping Lily would enjoy scattering a handful or two across the garden.

"Right then sweetheart," he said using his finger to uncurl the little toddlers hand, "here we are you take some of this shite... Fu.. I mean... Sorry darlin eh, you just ignore your daddy he's a very naughty man eh, you just feed the chickens an ignore him eh..." he grinned sheepishly as he did his best to fill her tiny hand with dried corn. She scrunched her fist up tight around and smiled flexing her fingers a little too soon so that when the feed fell from her hand it fell all down Arthur's shirt and got stuck on his trouser legs.

"You little rotter," he chuckled kissing her forehead as he boosted her up in his arms and helped her have another go. His dismay only setting in when one of the chickens began pecking at his ankles to pick at the feed little Lilly had dropped all over him. "Oh bloody... Go'wan get away!" He grumbled at the hen who seemed determined to peck right through his trouser leg. As he shook the troublesome bird off his ankle Lilly looked down at the silly little scene from her Daddy's arms, her eyes lit up as a giggle escaped her. And when Arthur looked down at her well there was no way he could remain frustrated or preoccupied with that damn chicken.

He couldn't do anything but smile when he looked down at little Lilly, couldn't do anything but beam down at her and press another kiss to her bonny head, heart full to bursting with pride every time she smiled.

"Right darlin right let daddy show you this time eh, let's do it together..." he said taking her little hand beneath his and guiding her as she threw the seed across the path. This time it really scattered and the two of them grinned down at their success as the chickens gathered and began eating the feed from the ground rather than from Arthur's leg. "That's better there we go that's fu... That's better."

Not swearing in front of Lily was perhaps the hardest part of fatherhood. It was the only thing you'd notice he hadn't quite taken so naturally too. Even if he couldn't see it himself, in every other element of fatherhood he was perfect. He was loving, a little clumsy but gentle and nurturing always. He made your little girl laugh like nobodys business. He was always worrying about her, always the first to rush to her side if she took a trip or bashed her head... He was perfect. But he just couldn't control that potty mouth of his. The bad words just had a way of slipping out and you were beginning to worry that when Lilly finally managed her first word that first word would be "fuck."

"Right then little miss sunshine," he grinned bouncing her in his arms, unable to hold back his fond chuckle when Lilly began giggling at his jostling movement, "let's introduce you to everyone eh... This beautys name is Eloise, she's pretty for a chicken ain't she, what dya reckon my darlin? Prettiest chicken you've ever seen right, beautiful, gorgeous bird... And this... This is Audrey... She's a bit, she's a bit stuck up if you ask me like, look at her see, strutting around like she owns the place... And this, this little rotter of a bird, her name's Helen and she's got one bloody... She's got one very sharp f.. beak on her, aye one very sharp beak.."

Lilly tried to reach down to the chickens, stretching her tiny body away from Arthur's and though she was only small, for a second she almost managed to tip their shared balance so that Arthur stumbled and almost - thankfully only almost - stepped on the smallest chicken. That was your chicken, one you'd found shrinking away, not doing as well as the other chicks in the brood. You'd insisted upon bringing her into the house to look after yourself, insisted on naming her too which Arthur had tried to encourage you against. It wasn't that he was cruel he just didn't want you to get attached to a chick that might not survive. But she had survived and now she lived out in the garden with the others.

"Ahh," chuckled Arthur thinking of you fondly, wishing you were there with him and Lilly. "You've found your mammy's hen little one, her names Pearl..." He said crouching down so that Lilly could get a closer look, being sure to hold her up and away from the hens who were prone to a curious peck or two.

Lilly watched them with wide curious eyes, her little smile breaking into a giggle as she watched the birds funny little walk, the way they jutted their necks with each step.

She flinched when Helen and Audrey began clucking a little too wildly for her baby ears and Arthur decided that perhaps it was time to head to the stables instead. It would be quieter inside the stable and the horses were gentle beasts Lilly would be able to pat and babble at to her heart's content.

"Alright little poppet," smiled Arthur kissing his little girls cheek again, his mustache tickling her cheek and neck so that her giggle rang out melodically around the garden. That sound was music to Arthur's ears. It was the sound which reassured him he wasn't such a bad man after all. That if nothing else, he would always know that there was one person on this earth he could make smile. And she just so happened to be the most important person on this earth too.

The stable was quiet just as he'd hoped and where the sun broke through the scattered cracks in the roof the afternoons warm light filtered in and graced the hay on the floor with a golden glow.

"Alright," he whispered, his beard tickling Lilly's face as he leant in to talk quietly in her ear. He always tried to be quiet when he came to the stables. It was such a gentle, peaceful little place and he liked to preserve it. Keep it soft, a sanctuary not just for the animals but for him. "Alright," he whispered, "there's someone who wants to meet you little one..." he said carrying Lilly to one of the stall where the newest addition to the family was standing on shakey little legs.

"But we've got to be nice a quiet eh my darlin, cause he's only a baby int he, just like you... So he might be shy..." he put his finger over Lilly's lips and shushed, grinned when he felt her blow a hissed "Shhhh" of her own against his hand. When he carried her over to meet the little foal he was struck by how similar they were, considering one was after all a baby horse and the other a baby girl.

But they were. They were both so delicate. So pure. These tiny, vulnerable little creatures who depended on him in their own way. Two sweet little lives to be nurtured and loved. Two tiny things he had to be gentle with.

He wasn't sure how he was going to manage that but he knew that since Lilly had been born he'd learnt a lot about being gentle. That slowly but surely he was learning tenderness too.

"Ain't she beautiful eh Lilly?" He whispered. It wasn't the first time he'd seen the little foal but as Lilly gazed at the timid creature in awe Arthur felt the softness in his own eyes. The melting of his cold heart. "Wanna say hello littlen?" He asked taking an apple from his pocket to settle the foals nerves.

"Hello lovely," he said holding the apple out and watching as the foal eyed them warily. He was still working on trust with this one, something Tommy had always been better at than him. Still he was determined to show the little creature his gentle side, prove that he could trust him. Not just for the foals sake but for his own sake too. Prove to himself that he could be gentle too.

And so when the foal approached him, his little legs shaking, Arthur couldn't hide the grin, couldn't hide the swell of pride which rose to his chest and then got stuck in his throat when little Lilly reached her hand out to stroke the foals soft hair.

"Careful now sweetie pie," he whispered to Lilly, "nice and gentle eh don't wanna spook him..." but the foal was far from spooked. In fact he seemed to warm to Lilly, standing patient and still whilst she stroked his nose with a smile on her lips.

"Tell you what darlin," smiled Arthur, it had been his plan from the very beginning but he presented it to her now as though he'd only just thought it up, "since you two're gettin along so well eh, why don't you come up with a name for him? Hasn't got one yet have you mate?" He said copying his daughters gentle movements and giving the little foal a pat.

But when Lilly looked up at him and smiled, clapped her little hands together with this big beaming grin on her face, her wide eyes bright with mischief, Arthur realised that perhaps it was a little too soon to offer her that kind of responsibility.

"Hmmm," he chuckled as he stood quietly, letting Lilly continue to pet her new best friend. He wasn't expecting her to be the one to break the silence. Certainly not in the way that she did... With a word she'd not yet said before.

"Da..." she said reaching out to stroke the foals nose again, "Dada!" When she said it Arthur couldn't quite believe his ears. Wasn't sure he hadn't just imagined it. But when he looked down at Lilly his smile already too much to be contained, she turned to look up at him and pointed at the foal, her own eyes bright and smiling too.

"Dada!" She said again pointing at the little foal, waving her hands to get Arthur's attention - though she had his undivided attention in that moment. He was stunned by her, could hardly process the emotions he felt. Struggling to keep the tears out of his eyes.

"No sweetheart," he grinned kissing her head and turning her round to face him, "that's me.. I'm Dada!" He chuckled, laughing louder when she pointed once more to the foal and repeated herself over and over again until he was forced to accept that when you came home and asked about his day he would have no choice but to tell you all about it. How lovely it was. How Lilly enjoyed meeting the little foal... "He's called Dada by the way..."

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“Who do you ship this character with” me and no one else bro. It’s me and them against the world

This is such good work, beautifully done!💛

Hi darling, I have a request for a drabble if you feel inspired. ❛ people like us don’t get to decide when we’re done. ❜ from the prompt list with Arthur Shelby.

People Like Us

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: graphic depiction of suicide attempts, blood and cutting, angst, comfort

WC: 1848

Definitely not just a drabble, got a bit carried away with this one. I'm sorry this is so late, Lee! Getting back on track with writing.

You’d thought everyone had left. But Arthur had remained; he always did, for at least a few minutes after, to make sure you were safe. He stood outside your door, watching the coppers stationed in the darkened alleys, occasionally knocking one’s teeth out when he didn’t think they were taking their watch over you seriously. Sometimes, when the night was most quiet, and the voices of those he’d damned did not plague his mind, he thought about admitting things to you – feelings, that you likely did not reciprocate.

Tonight, your bathroom light had been on, and your screeching pierced the walls of the residence and filled the night air of Birmingham like some sort of banshee.

Your eyes were foggy when the door swung open and the man nearly slipped making his way to you, a bruised hand clasping around the porcelain of the tub and a few locks of hair wisping over his eyes before the same hand was wrapping around you, pulling you up. Crimson streaked your vision as it dribbled down your wrist, pooling around you, staining the bathwater a pale, sickening shade of red. For one dreadful moment, you feared you might never escape it, that you would drown with the tang of bitter iron on your tongue and the blood-water would swallow your eyes, your throat, your ears.

But Arthur’s palm in yours was strong, and warm; it pumped a new life in your veins and sent shivers along your numb, tingling flesh, and heaved you from the waters of death in one dizzying sweep. Head rolling back, long fingers caught you, cradling you against the heat of his chest, the palpitations of his wild heart coming to you in shockwaves. Yours were frighteningly faint in comparison to his. 

You shivered in his arms – cold, suddenly, past the heat of the adrenaline – as your bare flesh met the biting air, curling in on yourself like a child. Everything took a second or two to register, maybe more – did time even exist? It must have; it must have, because you were fading fast. And Arthur was holding you, and your wet, metallic lips buried themselves in the soft fabric of his chest, desperate to hear the sound of his heartbeat drown out yours. Desperate to cling to the living.

“D – don’t let it take me,” you mumbled into his chest. He smelled like blood, bullets and sweat. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. He smelled like the lavender oil you’d given him to help him sleep among his demons. He smelled like home.

A thumb stroked lovingly over your drenched scalp. How could the same hands that had strangled a poor man to death last week be so gentle to you?

“No one’s takin’ you, love.” His hot breath sent another shiver through you, down the nape of your neck. But his words quivered. “Not as long as there is breath in me goddamn breast.”

The remnants of the red tide clung to your bare skin, ringlets of drenched hair clinging to your neck, threatening to choke the life from you. In the pitch black of your mind, it frothed at the seams, spilling into the void that seemed to span wider, and wider, until you were lost in the middle of an ocean.

“Arth… Ar…” Delirious, spinning – everything was spinning. Your nails dug into his skin, fabric bunching in your shaking fist, and you gasped, aftershave and blood and lavender all flooding your senses before blackness came to you in a staccato rhythm, once and twice and once and twice and twice and once and thrice…

---

Your blood was starting to dry on Arthur’s shirt when he came inside to see you. He’d injured two men when they tried taking you from him during your blood transfusion, and he’d nearly killed another as he’d been dragged to the alleyway behind the hospital. There, he kicked at brick walls ‘til the leather of shoes peeled, and punched ‘til his shoulders screamed in their sockets and his knuckles split open. Cursed that damned god of his for letting this happen to you, threatened that if he did not return you to him, he would bring Hell down on the heavens.

His neck still burned with an inflamed red mark where he’d torn the chain of the cross from his neck, the metal now stained with your blood, too. Everything, everything was painted in it, everywhere he looked, and his own bloodied knuckles clenched around the cross tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I didn’t know – “

“Just lemme see ‘er,” Arthur told the nurse, the gruff of his voice nearly cracking from his wailing and screaming in the alley. The only reason they had let him in was because of the name he bore, and once he knew you were okay he’d personally see to it that each one of them understood the repercussions of denying a Shelby.

Like a mouse under the stare of a mad dog, the nurse scurried off, doors shutting and leaving the room quiet save for the steady beeping, and the creak of the floor beneath Arthur’s torn shoes.

Watery eyes took in your half-conscious form, curled up in the hospital bed just as you’d been curled in his arms, a light gown draped over you. You were still shivering.

While relief settled in the pit of his twisting stomach, grief still knotted his throat, and as much as he tried to hold the tears back, he tasted both salt and blood on his tongue as he lowered himself beside you, bloodied and ringed fingers ghosting across your arms, as if fearful that he would hurt you. 

A sliver of white light tore along the blackness, and your eyes squinted shut, a pain throbbing in your skull. Every thread of sinew and marrow seemed to ache, deep inside your body where you didn’t even know pain could exist, and the red tide lapped at the blurred edges of your mind as you lay flat on your little island in the middle of the sea. The rock beneath you was soft as you rolled your head over, a clean, unfamiliar scent seeming to send your mind into turmoil, shifting your reality between the light and dark, like a pendulum that swung across the white of the heavens, an eclipse that brought you pain and light one moment, darkness and cold the next.

The soft touch of the angel was warm along your arms as the light shattered the black sky, and you gasped. Its touch waned, and you arched your back to sit up, hand reaching feebly for it in the unknown. “Angel…” you thought you breathed. “Angel… don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

Don’t leave me here to be swallowed by the red tide.

Your fingers grasped something tangible, something soft and warm, a fire burning beneath softness. Flesh, hot against your palms. Lavender and iron called to you, and finally, strong hands wrapped around you to pull you close.  

“I ain’t no angel,” a familiar, lulling voice spoke as light cleaved the darkness in two and tore it, strip by strip, from your starry gaze. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere, love.”

“Arthur.” You smiled around the name, lashes fluttering as you blinked against his blurry visage. Messy strands of hair flopped over his winter-blue eyes, and you clung to the collar of his shirt, dizzy but supported by his hands on your spine, rough and worn against your skin where the hospital gown split.

The pendulum swung against your skull, and your gut roiled with nausea. Your eyes wandered to the wrists that had been bandaged, the red tide seeping into the white. Something beside you beeped to the swing of the pendulum, but broke its rhythm suddenly. Your heart leapt to your throat.

“Shhh,” Arthur said, thumb making little circles over your spine. “We’re gonna get you home, love.”

The red tide began to seep into the corners of your vision as images hurtled towards you in the wide, never-ending ocean. The bullets strewn across your end table, each etched with a name that would haunt your dreams as those before them had. The porcelain of a bathtub, as pallid as the boy’s face who’d taken shrapnel to his chest not twenty feet before your eyes. The heat of the blood-water, like the heat of the fire that had devoured the Garrison the night your innocence had been lost.

“I don’t want to go back,” you pleaded with him, panicking as you found yourself attached to a thin, red tube.

Your fists pummeled his chest weakly and your knees kicked against his leg, and your frail body writhed beneath his grasp, but despite his heart breaking, he did not release you. The burn of the chain he’d snapped from his neck reminded him of the rope that he’d tied years ago, and he could feel a chasm opening beneath his boots as his legs had kicked from under him like yours did now.

And as you finally began to settle, wracked by soft sobs, he cupped your cheek in his bloodied hand, and he looked into the same eyes that had saved him, as he repeated your own words back to you, the words that still echoed in his mind whenever he thought of pulling the trigger on the trouble in his head or tying another noose,

“People like us don’t get to decide when we’re done.”

God damn him, damn his selfish soul for the look in those eyes that had once been so strong, for the way your jaw trembled against his hand. His lip curled, quivering, another tear streaking across his face as he tried desperately to keep the last, frayed threads of his sanity from snapping. Tried to hold himself together so that he could save you.

Because as much as it broke his heart to see you like this, and as much as he cursed his brother but mostly himself for dragging you into this life, he could not lose you.

“You hear me?” Arthur’s voice rose as his fingers dug into your jaw, his gentleness overcome by desperation as the noose tightened round his neck. The hinges of the bed creaked as the wooden stool had, and you watched as his face flushed red. He was going to break.

You shimmied forward, wading through the red tide, finding the water to be shallow here as you crawled onto his lap and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him so tight that you kept the shattered pieces of him together. That you snapped the rope on his noose and he gasped for air against the lavender and blood of your scalp.

“I hear you,” you murmured into the warmth of his neck, and when you shut your eyes, you stood ashore from the red tide. The sweat and tears against his flesh still smelled of the sea, and though these waters thrashed, they ran clear. And you knew that your angel would guide you through them.

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